


Finding love in the strangest of places

by TuridTorkilsdottir



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Falling In Love, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Size Kink, Smut, Spoilers, Suppressed Feelings, doubts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuridTorkilsdottir/pseuds/TuridTorkilsdottir
Summary: ~ Sometimes the love we want is not the love we need. Sometimes we find love in the strangest of places. ~
Relationships: Eivor/Rollo, Eivor/Tarben, Eivor/Vili
Comments: 38
Kudos: 38





	1. Denial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rising_Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/gifts), [Lavish_Witchling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavish_Witchling/gifts), [Moonchild_88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonchild_88/gifts), [Basched](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basched/gifts), [softestpunk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/gifts), [intermittent_laziness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intermittent_laziness/gifts), [castielsangel_x](https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsangel_x/gifts), [Lightofonesoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightofonesoul/gifts).



> I'm not sure, where exactly this has started. I just found myself lingering around the barracks (ingame ^^) the other day, saw Rollo and thought "Hmmm, why not?".
> 
> Originally I planned this to be another one-shot, but since the game has left some hints about the complexity of his character, it quickly became more. Who knows, where this will lead to :D 
> 
> Gifted to those, who encouraged and inspired me through comments or their own wonderful writing <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy it <3
> 
> Edit: The first chapter takes place a few weeks after the Southsexe arc and we'll be going from there until the endgame. I'll orient loosely on the game story. Maybe I'll change something here an there. There will be spoilers of all sort.
> 
> Picture content: https://turidtorkilsdottir.tumblr.com/  
> Say hello: @TeamTarvor on Twitter

Eivor clapped on his thigh. “Legs a bit wider. Yes. Back straight. Straight! Put your hand a little lower on the handle. Grip not so tight. Relax. Focus. Raise your arm with your breath. Throw!”

The blade of a spinning axe cut through the air, followed by the growl of the man next to him. One of his new crew members. Rollo. Young in his age, but clearly not in his appearance. 

He was exceptionally tall, shoulders and chest vast and muscled, large tattoos starting beneath his collarbone and disappearing in his breeches. The raven-colored hair on top of his head was plaited in several strings and united to a single braid in his neck, the sides of his head close-shaven.

With eyes like clear blue water, full lips, broad dark brows and a distinctive jawline one could’ve almost called him handsome. Just his boyish smirk and a voice that sometimes cracked revealed his lack of years. 

“Damn”, he swore, for his axe had missed its target.

“It’s getting better”, Eivor stated and patted his bare shoulder, then crossed his arms. “We won’t be able to cast out that little spin in your wrist, so just try to aim a little more to the right. Don’t cling too much on precision, you’re not shooting an arrow. It’s not that important where exactly the axe hits your target, as long as it does. Try again.”

Aiming as suggested, the next throw indeed hit the straw man they used for training, but it fell to the floor immediately and Rollo groaned in disappointment.

“A strike at last”, his mentor encouraged him. “If this happens, just get a step closer or further away. Finding the correct distance in combination with the speed of your throw is the hardest part. But let me assure you: If you hit someone with that weapon in battle hard enough, they’ll go down, regardless whether metal or wood meets them.”

Now the raven-haired huffed amused and walked towards the target, to collect the axes. He smirked, bit his lip for a moment and gave his mentor one of his funny looks, before he continued his training. Approaching and distancing, as he was told, closely watched by Eivor, who had ignored the silent provocation.

  
  


When he had first met Rollo, the young man had been butt naked, blindfolded and his hands were tied in a rope that hung from the ceiling of a brothel, while he was moaning at the sensation of being whipped by one of the whores. Begging “Please, I’m just a poor Christian brother with nothing left to give”, while his huge plow-sword stood upright against his groin, the tip glistening of arousal. A sight to behold. 

And Eivor found himself enjoying the absurd scenery for a moment, smiling even. Without seeing him, Rollo had lustfully offered him to join their tryst. But before Eivor could decline, the king’s henchman had surrounded the brothel and they had to flee and fight their way through Colcestre.

After he had seen the blunt giant running and moving swiftly, smashing two men at once with his hammer, while clothed in pants and boots only, he could hardly believe that he had only seen seventeen winters. 

Even less, when he had helped Rollo to detect a traitor within the remains of his crew and saw him quiet and thoughtful, mourning over necessary decisions. 

Shortly after that, Rollo had appeared in Ravensthorpe, asking to join the clan and the crew. A valuable warrior like him had not been rejected of course.

  
  


And now, he was standing right in front of Eivor, concentrated, his body tense. The midday sun and the training made him sweat. 

Eivor watched a single drop of water running down his spine and his mouth went dry all of a sudden, followed by a twitch in his groin. He quickly turned away and sat down on a wooden bench nearby, resting his elbows on his knees and trying to calm. It was not the first time he felt this way in Rollo’s company. Still, he was confused by the unwanted response of his body. He took a deep breath and told his mind “no” over and over again.

But then a well-known, hated and feared darkness spread around him, caged him in his own head. Standing on endless water, surrounded by nothingness, he heard a whisper. A scratchy voice, that reminded him of his own somehow, but speaking directly to him. 

Always questioning his actions, torturing him with sharp words, while it feigns giving advice.

_Hmmm, a strange desire indeed,_ It hummed behind his ear, making him shiver. _Your body tells you what you want, and yet you deny yourself the pleasure. What a waste of time._

_He’s a man,_ Eivor said in his thoughts.

_Ha! That never held you back in the past, drengr._

_He’s too young._

_Stop fooling yourself. Remember what you have done at his age..._

Eivor felt the heat rushing into his face and he hid it within his palms. The memory of the clumsy experiences in his youth felt odd and misplaced. And with all he had, he tried to ban the imagination of what he could - what he wanted - to do with the young warrior, because...

_I won't drag him into my darkness._

_Gracious, are we?,_ scoffed the voice harshly and came even closer. _I’d say take him, satisfy your appetite. You need a clear mind for what lies ahead._

Anger crawled up within Eivor. _Leave me alone then!_

Ferocious laughter filled the nothingness. _Very well, drengr. Very well…_ And with that, it was gone as quickly as it had arisen. 

Eivor sighed deeply and rubbed his fingertips hard over his forehead, stopping at the bridge of his nose and pressing two fingers against it. A headache plagued him, like he was used to after one of those visitations.

“Oh, we’re taking a break?”, Rollo asked playfully and pulled him back into reality eventually. He slumped next to him on the bench with a huff.

“I think we’re done for today”, Eivor stated hoarsely and rubbed his hands over his face once more. He could not face him right now.

In the corner of his eye though he could see Rollo wiping his palm over his neck, stretching his arms and his chest, before he suddenly copied the seating position and said: “Being alone with you, half naked and sweating - this is not how I imagined it.”

Eivor sighed again and felt his brows furrow at the blunt remark. Not the first one of that sort. He could almost feel the prominent smirk of the man next to him, as he came a bit closer and murmured: “I’m eager to learn how to hold your handle as well. When will we...”

“Gods, stop that!”, Eivor growled, denying the arousal those last words had caused. 

“Alright”, Rollo laughed, hands up in defense. “Another day then.” 

Eivor did not know what to say anymore. When Rollo had started mocking him with innuendos of that sort, he’d always responded quickly and sharp. But in this very moment, he didn’t find the strength. Or maybe not the necessity to put him back in his place. He turned his head and faced Rollo. Eyes of different shades of blue met. Merged together for a breath’s time, before a yell interrupted them and both men stared in the direction of the sound’s source.

One of the settlement’s children appeared and called them both to follow him to Randvi and Eivor was more than relieved that he could escape the situation. For now.

  
  


Just a moment later both men were towering over the map of England with Randvi. She had asked for Rollos consultation, because he’d already been around the area where she had planned the next raid.

With a stern face from concentration he pointed at several locations, describing the surroundings and possible hiding spots for an ambush. His voice deep and clear, not cracking as usual. 

Eivor found himself struggling with not staring at him. For he was fascinated by how he could switch from that boyish bluntness into seriousness so swiftly.

When Randvi walked away from the table to get some parchment, Rollo’s eyes followed her. Taking a glance at her back from hairline to toes and then he smirked in Eivors direction. Tilting his head back into the redheads direction with his brows twitching.

Eivor just rolled his eyes and huffed quietly, before he shook his head. Rollo gave him a look of incomprehension, grinned and shook his head as well.

As they were done, Eivor accompanied him outside. “Thank you, Rollo.”

“Glad I could help”, he shrugged and started his way back to the barracks.

“Wait”, Eivor stopped him and waited, until he turned around once more. “Randvi is our jarl’s wife. You better not make a move.”

Rollo opened his mouth to say something. Instead, he laughed shortly, cleared his throat and stated: “Don’t worry Eivor. She’s not the one I desire.”

There it was again, the cheeky smirk. And the wanton look through half opened eyes, that trailed down his body.

“This will not happen”, said Eivor; but at this point, he merely believed himself.

Rollo bit his lip and walked a few steps backwards. “Ah, we’ll see”, he smiled confidently, turned around and continued his way down the hill, leaving Eivor to his inner turmoil.


	2. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~ There is love in holding. And there is love in letting go (Elizabeth Berg) ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter only: Suicidal thoughts
> 
> I'm surprised how deep this is going. Some parts of the game just left me heartbroken, confused and angry. Especially Ceolbert's death and the long silence between Eivor and Sigurd.  
> Forgive me, but I'll try come to terms with it within this story. Thanks for reading this <3

Darkness and silence were surrounding him. Only the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. His body almost weightless in the hot water, his hair soft around his head. 

A stinging pain in his chest was overshadowing everything, dark thoughts spoiling his hopes and the last bit of joy. While small bubbles of breath found their way to the water’s surface, he caught himself thinking how easy and peaceful it would be to end it here. 

Sigurd still wasn’t talking to him. While his body healed, his mind seemed to get worse by the day. During the last weeks he could have only been found walking around the settlement or murmuring indistinctly in his room. Whenever Eivor tried to draw closer to him, he was either ignoring or yelling at him. Blaming, doubting, mocking him. He had become cynical and cruel. Like there was nothing left of the man he called and loved like a brother. 

The madwoman Fulke had taken his soul together with his arm. Her death had brought back neither, yet another face that haunted him in his sleep. 

And today, after another unsuccessful attempt of contact, Eivor had found a letter on the floor of the map room on his way out. He had seen and read it before, but while it had left him with a warm smile the time he received it, it had almost brought him down to his knees a few hours ago.

_I wished to thank you and the rest of the settlement for the great kindness you have shown me, and the things you have taught me. Though I may have felt a nuisance at times, the days I spend with all of you were joyous and educational. Though I go now to do the work that I am meant for, I know that I will return to this place and it’s people one day, and I look forward to that. Take care, until we meet again._

_Ceolbert_

Ceolbert. That pure-hearted young man, Eivor was meant to protect, had _sworn_ to protect, until the day he’d become king. Who had never returned to Ravensthorpe, because Eivor had failed him. Confiding him to the wrong person, Ivarr the Boneless, Ceolbert had ended as a figure in the Ragnarsson’s own vendetta.

A piece of Eivor had died with him that day. 

Anger and confusion. Sadness. And then nothing. At this very moment, Eivor just wanted to cease to exist. His lungs started to burn, the last bit of air escaped his mouth, but he did not move.

  
  


_What a shameful death, drengr,_ he suddenly heard the well known whisper behind him and his brows furrowed.

_Leave me be_ , he spoke in his mind.

_No Valkyrie will get you from here. You’ll not get access to my hall._

_I do not care. Not anymore._

_Do you wish to die a coward like your father?_ The voice growled. _Would he be glad to see you in Helheim?_

  
  


And then, he heard a man cry out in agony. A sound, he’d never forget. That still tortured him in his dreams. His lungs were craving for air now, panic crawled from his chest to his head and he emerged from the water, catching breath and rubbing his hands over his face.

Whining into his palms, breathing fast and unsteady, he remained in the bent position for a while. Then, he lent his head back against the wooden bathtub and stared up to the ceiling.

  
  


“Unusual time for a bath, isn’t it”, another voice too well known made him startle and turn his head to the side. 

Rollo had entered the bathhouse and came towards him.

“What are you doing here?”, Eivor asked harshly.

“Rude”, Rollo huffed and placed his broad palms at the brim of the wooden tub, leaning a bit into the grip. “What if I simply had the same idea, taking a bath in the moonshine?”

Eivor glared at him.

“Fine! Birna kicked me out of the barracks. Told me, I reek of rotten fish.”

“She’s not wrong about that”, Eivor realized sniffily.

“Ugh, you too?”, Rollo whined. “I thought her exquisite female nose was over-sensitive. Well... mind if I join?”

“Don’t you dare!”

The young man kneeled down next to the tub, one hand still at the brim, leaning his head against it. The other hand raised to touch the water’s surface, playing on it with his fingers. And, of course, that famous smirk on his lips arose.

“Oh, Eivor. If only you knew, what you miss…”

Feeling uneasy, almost angry all of a sudden, Eivor sat up straight and pierced the young man with his eyes. “And what would that be?”

Instead of being irritated, as he had hoped, Rollo smiled even broader and watched his fingers trailing the liquid in front of him. He bit his lip, his eyes began to wander from Eivor’s hair down to his scar. 

“I would start there, at your neck”, he murmured. “Touch that bruised skin with my tongue and my teeth, carefully, and make my way down on you. Follow your golden hair from your chest to that spot between your thighs. I would welcome you into my mouth, deeply. Lick you and suck you until…” he paused, took a breath and swallowed hard. “Until I can taste your hot se...”

“Enough!”

“Already?”, Rollo teased him.

Eivor rubbed one hand over his face again. “Go”, he demanded quietly, but firm.

Rollo sighed in disappointment and got up. “Very well”, he said and rearranged himself bluntly in his breeches. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Eivor watched him walk away and cursed himself for his heavy heartbeat, the arousal those filthy words had caused. And how they were still burning under his skin, from head to groin. He splashed water into his face, lent back against the tub once more and let his hands rest on his thighs. Not long, until one of them moved to his middle. Cupped the unwanted, aching erection and started to stroke softly. Up and down, up once more. But then he stopped and groaned through gritted teeth. Denied himself his own touch because this just could not be. He would not waste his seed over the words of a wanton boy. 

  
  
  


When he stepped outside the bathhouse into the chill nights air, he found his arousal gone for the moment. Leaving it behind, he was confronted with worries and grief again. His face felt numb somehow, his body heavy, burdened. Tired from all that, he did not wish to go back to the longhouse already. Facing Randvi oder Sigurd was something he could not bear tonight.

He made his way down to the river, stopped at the bank and catched a glance at the flowing water. Listened to the calming sound it made. Watched the moonlight dancing on its surface. 

Something cracked near him all of a sudden and he quickly turned around.

“Tarben?”, he said, spotting and recognizing the broad figure of the settlement’s baker, who was walking in his direction.

“Can’t sleep?”, he asked softly.

Eivor just shrugged and lowered his gaze.

“There’s sorrow on your face.”

“It’s... nothing. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not”, Tarben noted and a tall hand touched his shoulder blade. “Come”, he said calmly and led him to the bakery.

  
  


“Would you like to tell me?”, Tarben asked quietly, after Eivor had sat down on a stool near the fireplace, accepting a cup of mead.

He shook his head, despite knowing that he could tell him everything. All his fears and doubts were safe with him, for they had shared so much more than words not long ago. 

There was a time, where he would’ve called it ‘love’. And maybe it had been, for a blithe moment. But it was no more. 

Eivor had betrayed the kindhearted man in the worst way. And though he had assured he could forgive him, Eivor could not forgive himself and had withdrawn. Yet, not entirely. Whenever he was at his weakest, he found his way back here, back to him. Whenever he was close to him, a remaining spark became fire. As if the heat had never been gone.

“You’re tense”, Tarben stated, while walking behind him and running a hand over his shoulders. “Let me help you with this at least.”

The simple touch and calm words made him unable to move. He fell into a welcome kind of trance, while the baker took a seat behind him, helped him to pull his tunic over his head and spread some oil on his back. Caressing his skin patiently until it felt warm and then digging his thumbs deep into the hardened muscles.

Eivor shouted at the sudden burn, but got used to it quickly. Tarbens tall hands worked on him, knowing exactly where to press. It was painful and relieving at once. Eivor leant into the touch and closed his eyes now, humming quietly. The fire rustled in his ears.

And even, when the baker’s hands moved up to his neck, his scar, he did not wince, for Tarben also knew how to handle the sensitive skin there. He knew too well. His fingers wandered softly over the scarred spot and then, suddenly, his lips followed. Kissing him softly behind his ear, before his mouth went down to his shoulder, sending needles from Eivors stomach to his groin. He sighed and lent back against Tarbens chest. 

One hand slithered through underneath Eivors arm, fingers brushed over his chest, making him shiver and moan.

“You’re hard”, whispered Tarben next to his ear and Eivor opened his eyes half way, looked down on himself and saw the tall hand wandering from his chest to his belly.

“You… you don’t need to…”, he stumbled, while Tarben opened his breeches, and moaned, as the fingertips followed his hip bone, sliding deeper, until they merely touched his hardness.

“I want to”, Tarben murmured and his broad palm cupped all of Eivor at once.

With another moan, Eivors head fell back onto Tarbens shoulder and his hands came up to find hold behind the other’s neck. Two heavy breaths, before Eivor turned his head aside and sighed against Tarbens jaw. The latter faced him and embraced him with a deep kiss, while his hand started stroking him firmly.

Their mouths opened and closed around each other, tongues met, teeth bit carefully. Eivor tasted the sweetness of mead and the familiarity of the touch and gave himself away fully.

Only now, when he had closed his eyes once more, he found his thoughts wandering. Leaving the bakery, down the hill, into the barracks. To a simple bed of straw. Raven hair. Water blue eyes. A cunning smirk.

_I would welcome you into my mouth, deeply._

Eivor tried to pull himself back from that. His brows furrowed. Firm lips kissing him, the oily hand still working on him, all feelings concentrated on that part of his body. His breath started shaking, his body trembled.

_Lick you and suck you until…_

Eivor pushed himself away from the stool, holding his weight with his hands on the broad shoulders behind him, thrusting hard into the palm below.

_...Until I can taste your hot seed._

Cursing through his teeth against Tarbens mouth, Eivors hips twitched and he came hard over his hand. His breath fast and loud when he collapsed back to the stool and into Tarbens embrace. 

  
  


But when the heat subsided, a wave of guilt washed over him. He shouldn’t have let that happen. Not again. Not like this.

He got up and pulled up his breeches. “I have to go”, he said hoarsely, without looking back.

“Won’t you stay?”

His heart ached terribly under the vulnerable voice behind him.

“No, I… forgive me.”

And with that, he walked back into his darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so hard to write! Tarben and Eivor are my main ship, actually. No, let's be honest here, they're canon! My heart is broken, but I hope it will all make sense in the end...
> 
> My song for this chapter is "Ten times the weight" by Kensington. If you'd like to listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7bEX32ygC4
> 
> No one seems to know  
> That I will go this far  
> I know it inside as I hold my heart for you  
> That I will go this far  
> No one in life who will know that I will lose


	3. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~ The most confused you will ever get is when you try to convince your heart and spirit of something you know is a lie (Shannon L. Alder) ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not 100% satisfied with this, for I wanted to write to much more. Maybe I'll rework this one day. For the moment, I accept it to be enough. I hope you can, too <3   
> Thanks for your kudos, comments and support! <3

Snotinghamscire. Hemming Jarl was dead. One of two men, Eivor had loved like a father, had closed his eyes forever. To pay his respect, he had traveled there alone. 

But he did return in company. Vili Hemmingsson had declined the jarldom, his birthright, and asked to join the Raven Clan.

Vili. His dearest childhood friend. Who had left Norway with his father, wenn he and Eivor had just started to grow into manhood.

While they rode next to each other in silence, the sadness of their loss still surrounding them, Eivor repeatedly thought back at how much they had shared. Growing up almost like brothers until one day they both had realized, they clearly weren’t. 

The beginning of all had been a brawl in the stables, when they both had fifteen winters. Pulling at each other's hair and clothes, swearing and half-hearted punches had turned into an irritated silence. Heavy breathings were smothered by impatient, sloppy kisses. 

Vili was his first and the only one allowed to kiss and touch him. But he could never have called him his own, his love, for they both were confused by and ashamed for what they did when nobody was watching.

Yet when they hid in the stables or somewhere in the forest, receiving comfort and pleasure from each other, Eivor had felt free and unburdened. He could forget about his worries and fears, the pictures of the past that were still haunting him. Caring so much for another person and wanting someone so badly had been new to him. As far as he could tell at the time, it must have been love.

Therefore he had suffered greatly, when he saw Vili making out with several of the settlement’s girls. To make him jealous, play with him or just to keep up appearance, Eivor had never known. He had succumbed to him and did whatever he wanted, whenever he had wanted it. Craved for his attention and his touch. And he had found himself a heartbroken, sobbing mess and hid himself in the longhouse for several days, when Vili had left Norway only one year later.

After more than a decade they had now met again. Reunited by the call of Vilis father and the grief about his woeful death. 

The night before the burial they found a moment to talk alone. Musing about their youth and cheerful memories and eventually sharing the thought of what they could have been for each other, if only they had stayed together.

Hidden away at a fireplace in the forest they had kissed that night, ripped each other’s clothes off and touched every inch of their bodys like wolves overrun by hunger. Eivor had brought him pleasure with his mouth, receiving it from his hand in return. Just like they had done it so many times in their youth. And he had felt the same confusion and emptiness, when Vili had declared the intimacy as a sudden outburst of lust and left him alone.

  
  


But now that he was joining him, there was a glimpse of hope growing inside, that maybe this time, he would stay at his side for good. That he had changed and wasn’t ashamed for his feelings anymore. 

  
  
  


Clinging to that thought when they finally arrived at Ravensthorpe, he guided Vili directly to the longhouse to meet Sigurd and Randvi. Where he found himself both confused and jealous about the warm-hearted way Sigurd paid Vili his welcome. Even Randvi seemed surprised and just shrugged at Eivor, when Sigurd decided they would have a feast in honor of Hemming’s death. And then ordered his younger brother to show the new clan member around the settlement.

  
  


Eivor agreed to that, but when they left the map room, he suggested a short break first and led Vili into his room, where he got rid of the heavier parts of his armour.

Vili just set aside his huge double-axe and his long, dark-red coat and helped Eivor to open his bracers with gentle, slender fingers.

Wrinkling his nose, he said: “You smell like a donkey’s ass.”

Pushing one helping hand aside, Eivor chuckled.

“Huh. And you look like one. What are we going to do about that?”

Vili laughed, before he sighed and stated absently: “I’ve missed talking to you like that.”

“Me too, arse-stick”, joked Eivor, earning another smile from his opposite who seemed to be deep in thoughts now.

When he finally looked up, his facial expression had changed. Amusement had become some sort of despair, need. 

“I have missed all of you”, he whispered.

Eivor’s brows furrowed, his heart skipped a beat. 

“You mean that?”

“Yes… Yes, I do”, Vili admitted and came one last step closer, cupped Eivors head within his palms and kissed him desperately. 

Eivor sighed deeply at the mere sensation of their meeting lips, but even more at the feeling of his stretched neck. Vili was so much taller than him and he loved how he pushed his chin up and towered over him, while their tongues caressed each other.

Heavily tattooed, wiry arms around him were pulling him closer until they both couldn’t hide their arousal any longer.

Vili breathed hard against Eivors mouth, when he asked: “Can we go somewhere?”

Eivor kissed him once more. “Go where?”

Vili pulled himself back, lent his forehead against the other’s. “Somewhere… more private.”

“More private than my room?”, Eivor asked wondering.

Vili huffed shortly and looked around. “There’s just the curtain after all…”, he stated and gestured in the direction of the doorframe. “No need to make everyone hear us.”

Deep inside Eivor something broke. 

He withdrew and felt like a fool all of a sudden.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing had changed. 

“I will not hide who I am any longer”, he said hoarsely.

“You… We don’t need to hide. I just don’t want to…”, Vili started, but Eivor cut him off.

“You don’t want anybody to know. That’s hiding Vili. You’re afraid of what people might think about you.”

“Eivor. I…”

Sharp, but quiet words were escaping Eivor’s mouth, before his thoughts had completely formed them: “No. I’m sick of meeting in secret. I’m sick of living on somebody else’s terms. Waiting patiently, until you feel like touching me again. Like in our youth.”

Vili stared at him, opened and closed his mouth without saying anything.

Eivor rubbed his forehead, cursing himself for his outburst.

“We… Ugh, we just arrived. It’s been a long ride. But… this is where I stand. If you want me, it’s all or nothing Vili.”

“I need to think about that”, Vili murmured after a while.

“Well then. Go, think. You’ll find Gunnar down the road at the river. He’ll show you the way to the barracks.”

Nodding silently and giving him a last troubled look, Vili left.

  
  
  


Eivor had sworn to drink himself unconscious that night. Taking part in the welcome feast he tried his best to ignore the sight of Vili sitting right next to Sigurd. The cheerful way they talked to each other made him angry. He felt betrayed, especially by Sigurd being in such a high spirit. He had not talked to him for weeks, just pitied himself alone in his room and now he spoke and gestured enthusiastically. 

Eivor was looking for diversion by joining his crew, talking to them and the citizens of Ravensthorpe, but he failed badly. The mead felt sour and the food pale, his words empty. 

The only thing, no, the only one who really distracted him, was Rollo. Sitting at another table but right in his field of view, their eyes met several times. 

And the looks they shared became longer with each meeting, sending small waves of arousal to Eivor’s groin. After the third refill of his mug, he even found himself returning the stupid smirk of the youngster. 

The warriors around him had started yelling indecent stories and singing, yet his eyes were pinned to the raven-haired man in the green tunic. 

Rollo took another sip from his mug hastily and fetched an escaping drop with his thumb. Piercing him with his gaze, he moved the digit to his mouth and licked it just a moment too long, so Eivor felt himself harden instantly. 

As if pulled back to his senses, he got up and stepped out into the night. He hid behind the huge tree next to the longhouse and lent against its bark, taking deep breaths and staring down the lonely settlement. 

Not long, until he was not alone anymore. Not in his mind at least.

_ Funny, isn’t it? _

He did not respond.

_ The man you want doesn't want you. And the man that wants you…  _

_ Is merely a man!  _ Eivor said more to himself, than to the hated voice.

_ Yet you’re craving for his touch. How long will you waste your seed somewhere else? Just take what you need once and the heat will be gone. _

_ What, if it won’t? _

Cruel laughter was the only answer he got, before he heard steps approaching.

“Following me?”, he growled in Rollos direction.

The other seemed mildly confused by the harsh sound of his voice, but still smiled confidently.

“So… this wasn’t an invitation?”

“An invi… no!”, Eivor claimed, despite being not sure about it.

Rollo huffed and was still coming closer. 

“Do you actually believe yourself, Eivor? Because I don’t.”

And with that, he was right in front of him, bent over, rested his forearm against the tree, while his chin almost touched Eivor’s forehead. 

“I’m not blind and I’m not a fool. I can see how you look at me.”

“Rollo…”   
But he hushed him, grabbed one of Eivor’s hands and pushed it firmly against his flushed cheek. 

“I’ve missed you, Eivor”, he said quietly and closed his bright eyes, lent into the touch. He turned his head to the side and his lips were brushing over the palm, before he placed a gentle kiss on it. 

Eivor took in a sharp breath and kept it inside, unable to move. His ribcage ached under the pressure of air and his fast heartbeat. Heat rushed into his head and his groin.

“I want you”, Rollo merely whispered and his tongue caressed the soft flesh for a moment, before he bit into the muscle below his thumb.

With a hiss, Eivor pulled his hand back.

The young warrior smiled and lowered himself that last bit, pushed Eivor’s head gently up, so their foreheads met. The exquisite stretch in his neck made Eivor shiver and his erection throbbed in the tightness of his breeches. 

“Tell me you want me too”, Rollo murmured against his mouth, the eyes dark of desire and only half opened, while their lips almost met.

“I… I can't”, Eivor whimpered while he finally breathed out and moved his head down to Rollo’s chest. 

“But you do”, Rollo realized, as he pushed his whole body against him, pinning him to the tree and revealing his own hardness. 

Eivor gasped into the green tunic, his hands brushed over the other’s chest and grabbed the coarse fabric. 

“Ja”, he admitted through shivering breaths and was hit hard by the insight, that this was indeed what he desired. Seeing the broad chest, the huge muscular body bared again, but touching it this time. Tasting his lips, feeling his tongue in his mouth and his hands in his breeches. Around him, inside him.

Yet, the battle in his mind went on. He did not know why he was unable to allow himself to give in. His emotions were caged by artificial reason.

“I want this, Rollo, but…”

“...you can’t”, finished the younger with a sigh and withdrew slowly. Placing his hands behind his head and breathing out loud, he made two steps back. 

“Ugh, Eivor… You’re driving me mad.” 

Eivor stared at his feet, not able to face him. The hands clenched into fists, his entrails in such turmoil that he feared to throw up any moment.

Rollo sighed once more and spoke calmly: “Just… get rid of what troubles your mind and let me know, when you  _ can _ .”

A single nod was all Eivor was capable of, but it made Rollo smile, before he walked back to the longhouse. And Eivor sank down to the grass and tried not to scream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My song for this chapter: The last drop falls by Sonata Arctica <3
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=11Jgrpr0cTk
> 
> Oh I love you, maybe?  
> And I hope it goes away  
> How I want you daily  
> I know it's gonna stay...


	4. Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~ Pushing people away and denying yourself love makes you weak, not strong. Especially when you do it out of fear (Anonymous) ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, the name of the chapter fits perfectly today. I really had a hard time and feared, I could not finish this one today, as planned.   
> But I kind of forced myself to do it and it helped me to overcome my anxiety for now.   
> This fandom and your support is food for my soul. Thank you so much for reading this.

_ Here again, to mourn? _

_ Leave me be. _

_ Do you feel sorry for him or only for yourself? _

_ I don’t know. _

_ You’ve angered me greatly, when you forced me to welcome him to my halls. _

_ He has earned his place there. He died fighting for what he thought was right. _

_ Defending your brothers honour? No, no. He was a coward that didn’t respect his place. He brought shame over you. Over your clan. Yet instead of begrudging him, you’ve decided to begrudge your brother. _

_ I do not… _

_ Of course you do! Aggrieved, furious, jealous. That’s what you are. Wasting your time with bitter thoughts and unfulfilled lust. While you’re meant to do greater things! _

_ I decide what to do. _

_ You do not, Eivor. No. The norns have already decided your path. _

_ But you can’t change that either. _

_ Ha! Wise you are. Very well, I’ll leave you to your mourning then… Fool _

  
  


Eivor hid his face within his palms, trying to calm the hammering pain behind his eyes. The voice was right. He always came here, when he felt lost. When he didn’t know what to do. As if Dag’s cold grave could give him any advice.

The living Dag could have. Before mistrust and anger had taken him, he had taught him so much. Almost everything he knew about fighting, sailing, drinking and swearing, he had learned from him and Sigurd. And he missed him. No, missed them both. 

The voice had spoken of greater things, but Eivor didn’t want them. For every gained victory and every forged alliance he had paid a bitter price in this land of one god. He was starting to get sick of all the death. The blood, the screams, the smell of iron, smoke, vomit and shit. 

They had come here to settle down, to find peace. But would that ever be?

Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons had crossed the sea with the same intention long ago and they were still fighting. Or dead.

Soon, the raiders of the Raven Clan would set sail for another raid. As far as their scouts had told, it would be the greatest monastery they ever attacked. Heavily guarded, but promising incredible riches and material they would need to build up their settlement. 

Eivor had started questioning this way quite a while ago. And he understood all the hatred against Danes and Norse. Was slaughter and stealing the only way to build up a new life? With all he had, he wished there was another.

  
  


Steps were approaching and without looking up, by the mere sound of them, Eivor knew exactly to whom they belonged.

"You're up early", a deep, yet slightly crackling voice confirmed his assumption.

Sighing into his palms, Eivor said: "Please, not today."

"Don't worry, I'll not violate the dead. Mind if I sit for a moment?"

"If you must"

Rollo sat down, not beside him on the ground, but on the log he was leaning against. Eivor rubbed his hands over his face, before he lowered them and leant a bit forward, arms resting on his knees. 

"Is that Dag’s grave?", Rollo asked, earning just a nod as reply. "Huh. Birna told me about him. And what he did to you.”

"What he did to  _ me _ ?"

"Forced you to kill him, yes. Nothing weighs heavier than the blood of your friends on your hands. A scar that never heals. Don't think of me as a fool, Eivor. I can see the burden you carry. I can see how Sigurd brings you nothing but trouble. I can see the loss of your family in your eyes, whenever you stare into nothingness. I'm not the child you take me for."

And Eivor accepted that Rollo was indeed not a child anymore. He had to grow up fast in the cruel world they were living in and was just as much a man, as Eivor himself. Knowing the same bitter losses, the same guilt, the same responsibility.

"Still, you are an incredible pain in the arse", he stated, surprised by his own words. And regretting them immediately, when Rollo chuckled and started: "I could be, if…"

"Nei! Don't say it!', Eivor interrupted him and couldn't avoid a smile. "Do you know no shame?"

"Shame? For what?"

"For saying such things. To a  _ man _ ."

Rollo huffed. "I couldn't care less. I do not decide who attracts me and I do not decide who I care for."

Eivor’s brows furrowed. He finally tilted his head to the side and faced Rollo from below.

"Care?"

The tall youngster returned his look. "Yes. If you still haven't realized it, Eivor: I care for you. I'd clearly not waste so much time for someone I only want to bed.”

Shaking his head, Eivor said quietly: “I just… what do you even see in me?”

“A good leader, a trustworthy friend. A man who fights with passion, but not for the sake of fighting alone”, Rollo listed and continued calmly: “I find comfort in talking to you. And in your eyes. They remind me of home.”

“Home?”

“The northern lights. And the mountains of ice. When it’s so cold, they turn blue.”

Eivor had to look away, for he felt his body betraying him again. Sending waves of heat to his cheeks and made his heartbeat unsteady. Never had someone talked to him so open, so fearless about his feelings. 

And right there,in front of the grave of his friend, the man he had killed, Eivor realized something. Understood, what had held him back all the time. But the new perception threw him even deeper into confusion.

Murmuring a quick excuse, he stood up and went back to the longhouse.

  
  
  


The sky above the open field was darkness and shimmering light at once. No cloud spoiled the view upon countless stars and the bright moon. 

Eivor had left the camp he and his raiders had built for the night. The missing warmth of the campfire made him shiver and he crossed his arms.

He was fully clothed and armed already, for they would leave the camp in a few hours and attack the monastery at dawn. When the guards would still be asleep, but the rising sun would provide enough light to recognize the difference between monks and armed men. As always, Eivor had ordered no civilians would be killed. Stealing, defending, but no slaughter.

A moment of rest would’ve helped him, but he wasn’t able to sleep. This was not new to him. Too great was the fear, that the men and women who were sworn to him and Sigurd could be hurt, or even killed. And as wonderful as the stories and songs of Valhalla were sounding in his ears, he feared the moment of death. 

While taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he sat down on the damp grass. No sleep, but at moment silence at least.

Heavy weighed his heart, as he thought back to Tarben’s face, the sad look in his eyes, when Eivor had broken the last chains between them. Told him he could no longer be with him in this halfhearted way, before they had left Ravensthorpe. He felt cruel and guilty, despite knowing it was for the best. 

  
  


While he now found himself confronted with another grave decision and the uncertainty of what awaited him tomorrow, he saw a blazing flame coming closer. A torch was rammed into the ground before him and a tall body sat down beside him. 

Eivor turned his head and felt uneasy, when he saw the dark red of Vilis cloak. His throat and his chest felt cramped all of a sudden. Even the calming warmth of the torch was not able to soothe him. He did not dare to look up into Vilis eyes or say anything and felt quite relieved, when the other finally broke the silence.

"I know what I want, Eivor”, he said straight forward. “I want you, I want… this. But I can’t promise you anything. Being bound to something, to someone… you know that does not suit me.”

Eivor swallowed and closed his eyes again. Vili had always been a free spirit, yes. Still, the bitter insight that he had not changed, that he  _ didn’t want to  _ change, hit him hard. 

But when Vili came closer and his nose almost touched Eivor’s ear, he could not move away.

“Please, Eivor, let us enjoy the flames as long as they might last. Who knows what awaits us tomorrow?” he murmured softly. “What if this is our last night together? Please, let me kiss you. Let me taste you.” 

While saying those last words, he had started teasing his earlobe with his tongue and teeth and Eivor found himself moving against the touch of a warm hand caressing his thigh. A firm hand, that knew exactly where to find the most sensitive part of his body in his breeches. When Vili touched him right there through the fabric, finding him half hard already, he breathed hot against his neck and started to kiss and lick the scarred skin as well. 

The part of Eivor demanding him to stop this, to get up, to not give in again, was silenced immediately. His body, his needs nailed him to the ground. Just like Vili’s hands, who pushed his upper body down, before his lips brushed over his face and embraced his mouth in an almost aching, wanton kiss. 

Eivor knew that this would earn him nothing but a blithe moment of satisfaction, yet the fight had been lost. He welcomed Vilis’s tongue and moanings into his mouth and let the trance of lust roll over him. 

Not long, until the warm hand found it’s way inside his breeches and he gasped at the feeling of bare skin around him.

"Let me do this for you", Vili sighed and went down on him, freed his erection and licked over the full lenght once. Then, he gently took the flushed tip into his mouth and started to suck him slowly.

Almost too slow, too clumsy, a bit too much teeth but still… the sight of Vilis mouth around him, made Eivor’s whole body tremble. Suppressed moanings escaped him through gritted teeth and he fought back desperately to move his hips.

He grabbed Vilis hair and carefully showed him, which speed he needed.

Despite, it seemed to not be Vilis hair anymore. Looking down on himself in the flickering light of the torch, he catched himself fantasising, that the bobbing head below belonged to somebody else.

He pressed his eyes shut, but that only made it worse. The imagination of a certain young warrior was controlling his mind. His filthy words, the sight of his bold smirk, his confession.

When Eivor felt his nearing climax over raven-hair and water-blue eyes, he pulled back from Vili, turned aside and helped himself that last bit, came over his own hand.

Panting heavily, he grabbed a tuft of grass. Cursing himself for allowing it to come this far.

"Eivor, what...?", Vili asked, obviously confused.

"Leave me alone", he answered desperately and clothed again.

"I don't understand."

"Me neither. I just… I don't want it like this."

"Eivor."

"Please, Vili. Say no more."

  
  
  


When they walked back in silence to the quiet camp, the fire in its midst was almost dead. Still, Eivor recognized the silhouette of the last warrior awake.

When he reached the fireplace together with Vili, Rollo was looking back and forth between them with his arms crossed, then smiled sadly and gazed back at the sizzling wood.

Eivor couldn’t stand his sight at this very moment.

“Go sleep, Rollo”, he ordered, his voice harsh like that of a father scolding his child. 

And he hated himself as soon as the words had left his mouth. Wanted to take them back and felt the need to apologize for what just had happened. Seeing it undone.

While Rollo just nodded, stood up and walked away slowly to lie down on an empty blanket nearby, Eivor wanted nothing more than to follow him. Lie down beside him and share his warmth in this cold night.. 

Ensure him that he was the only one he wished to hold right now.

But for the coward he was, he just slumped down on one of the logs around the fireplace, stared into dying embers.

And the voice inside his head laughed ferociously. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: The Night Subscriber by Katatonia
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAx0oobvggM
> 
> I’m thinking  
> If torpor had left my soul, voices would sing!  
> I would submit my heart to the sentiment within  
> And let go of the night that is abiding here


	5. Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~ Sometimes we realize just too late it's love ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long! This one was so difficult! Thanks for your patience. I hope it was worth the wait <3
> 
> I combined Chapter 5 and 6 within this so there will only be 6 in total... Only one more to go!

His axe came down one last time and Eivor roared as he split the saxon’s skull below him in half. His breath was hard and unsteady. The taste of the dead man’s blood in his mouth, the sound of his own in his ears. The smell of smoke, iron and death in his nose.

He looked around, watched the silhouettes of his raiders walking around, looting bodies and carrying prizes to the longboat. The frenzy of the fight was fading away and left him numb and empty. What a waste of life…

“You alright?”, he heard Vili’s voice from above and took his offered hand to get up.

Eivor spat out some blood and wiped his mouth, before he tried to get aware of his body. It felt heavy and sore from fighting, but no burning or stinging pain speaking of an open wound.

“I’m fine”, he said and let his eyes wander around once more. “Anyone hurt?”

“Aye. Not badly though. Some missing teeth and bruises.”

Hearing that was a relief, yet something was not right. Like something was missing, no,  _ someone  _ was missing.

“Where’s Rollo?”, asked Eivor with furrowed brows.

Vili turned his head and pointed to a building not far away. 

“I saw him running into the small chapel up there. Shall we have a look?”

“I’ll go. Help the other’s with the supplies.”

“As you wish.”

Eivor pulled his battle-axe from the ravaged body below and collected two of his smaller throwing-axes on the way to the chapel. The path led him up a hill, just a small rise, yet he felt his breath going faster again, his legs felt weak. It had been a long day, his body craved for some rest.

When he was almost there, he heard strange moanings echoing within the stone walls. He stopped for a moment, listened and when a single yell arose, he quickly went on to reach the entrance.

Rollo was lying on the floor with a huge saxon towering over him. The latter held a dagger in his hand, trying to cut Rollos throat. But he was holding his arm, panting through gritted teeth.

Panic arose within Eivor. He grabbed one of the smaller axes and threw it swiftly, hitting the saxon’s temple and painting Rollo’s face with dark red blood. 

Rollo pushed the tall body aside, before it collapsed, metal and leather hitting the floor loudly.

“Gods”, he sighed and his head slumped onto the ground.

“Are you hurt?”, Eivor asked breathlessly, while he stepped through the doorway, spotting three more dead saxons lying on the floor.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“What in Hel’s name happened here?”

Rollo got up onto his elbows. “Ugh, I just found those fuckers hiding in here.”

An unknown kind of anger arose within Eivor.

“Four men? And you did not get support.”

Rollo chuckled. “Four saxons, that is. Thought I could handle them alone.”

Slamming the door behind him shut, Eivor shouted: “What were you thinking?!”

Obviously surprised by the sudden outburst, Rollo just stared at him, before he got to his feet again slowly.

“One against four, you fool?!”, Eivor continued his reproach.

Rollo huffed. “I almost got them all, did I not?”

Eivor grunted and pushed him hard against the stone wall behind him. “Almost! You stupid little shit! You could have died!”

“Alright, sorry”, Rollo said defensively. 

“I do not wish to drag your fucking large dead body back to Ravensthorpe.”

“Yeah, I got it.”, Rollo sighed. “I won't bother the crew with my remains.”

“Bother…?”, Eivor repeated, then sighed heavily as well and let go of him, took a step back.

“I do not wish you to be dead, that’s all”, he said. 

And then realized with a whisper: “I… I don’t want to lose you.”

  
  


Rollo said his name. Quietly, carefully. Barely audible through the rushing of Eivor’s heartbeat. He looked up to him with furrowed brows. Their eyes met. One pair searching for answers, the other for permission.

Their foreheads met, when Rollo embraced his face with his huge hands and lowered himself. Waited just one more breath this time, before he kissed him. 

His full lips were soft and so gentle, that time stood still and everything around them disappeared. The only things remaining were Rollo’s touch, his smell and taste. And the sound of his humming voice, while he embraced Eivor with yearning kisses.

Heat spread within Eivor’s whole body. And he knew the pulsing in his breeches, that made his hips twitch. But the tight feeling in his chest was new to him. He felt like he’d fall to the ground any moment. Yet Rollo held him. His eyes now closed, while his lips opened a bit and his tongue teased his mouth, before entering him with a quick thrust, making them both moan. 

One of Rollos hands started wandering down the famous scar carefully, over his chest, his belly and finally found it’s destination between Eivor’s legs.

“Just look how much you want me”, he murmured bluntly against Eivor’s mouth with a grin and rubbed the found hardness a few times.

“Gods!”, Eivor swore through his teeth.

“Want to join them for a moment? I can arrange that”, Rollo huffed.

“Filthy little shit”, Eivor whispered and laughed. “Wait until we’re back at home at least.”

“Aye”, Rollo hummed and kissed him again.

  
  
  


They went out of the chapel heading to the longboat, when suddenly a sharp pain pierced Eivor’s thigh and he stumbled, fell to his knees and yelled.

He and Rollo turned, spotting one single archer up the hill, who readied a second arrow this very moment. Hate and determination on his face, as if he was eager to not miss his target this time. 

Rollo reacted quicker, though. He pulled the last throwing-axe from Eivor’s belt and threw it with a growl. Hit the archer perfectly between his eyes and the saxon fell to the floor like a sack of straw.

“Huh, good one”, Eivor murmured.

The pain was sharp and almost unbearable, when he tried to get back on his feet. Rollo offered him a hand, then his shoulder, to help him walk.

“I’ve learned from the best”, he said with a smile. “Want me to pull it out?”

And Eivor wanted nothing more, than to get rid of the pressure as soon as possible, but he knew better. He had seen what ugly wounds could arise from hastily pulled arrows.

“We better let Valka do this.”

“Right”, Rollo agreed and went down quickly to pull Eivor up into his arms, carrying him like a lass.

Eivor had been too surprised to prevent this, but now he protested. 

“Get me back down at once!”

But he only earned a grin and a shaking head. “Let’s get back home.”

  
  


******************************************************************************

  
  


The winds were generous and they reached Ravensthorpe within a few hours only. 

Eivor had drunk some mead on their way back to numb his pain a bit. He has had it worse, but still. The pressure was more than uncomfortable. 

Vili and Rollo were at his side immediately, to help him up. But the younger warrior seemed pale all of a sudden and Eivor could see a huge dark spot at his side. 

“What’s that? You said you weren’t hurt!”, he gasped.

“No”, Rollo murmured and stumbled a bit forward. “I just said, I’m fine.”

“But you are not!”

“No”, was all Rollo said, before he sat down again and with a pained smile.

Eivor felt a new wave of panic rolling over him. Shouting, he ordered his crew to bring Rollo to his room and get Valka. Forgot about his own wound and just walked behind the four raiders that carried Rollo up to the longhouse. 

When the tall young warrior had been laid down onto his bed and the raiders made way for the healer, Eivor sat down beside him and helped Valka to get his armor and clothes off. Rollo was almost incautious, cold sweat on his face and his body. A nasty cut claffed open at his flank.

Valka ordered everyone to leave, but Eivor demanded to stay. Assisted her and simply stood beside the bed, when there was nothing else for him to do. His heart pounded heavily the whole time, he felt sick and afraid. Helpless, useless and foolish for not having noticed the blood earlier.

The darkness inside him consumed him and he almost felt the coldness of the voice behind crawling down his spine.

  
  


_ Ah! A fine warrior! Not in his best years already, but I will gladly welcome him. _

_ You won’t have him! _

Eivor.

_ Maybe not today, but who knows? The norns might already have their knives on his thread of life? _

_ Please. Don’t. _

Eivor.

_ Ha! Begging for mercy! Wasn’t it you, who said, that even I do not rule the norns. _

_ Please… _

Eivor!

  
  


Pulled back from his darkness, Eivor looked up in confusion. Someone had been calling his name. Another familiar voice, that had come closer, became louder with each yell. And now, that he looked into icy eyes, he realized it had been Sigurd.

Sigurd, his brother, who stood right before him now, cupped one of his cheeks with the remaining hand and glanced at him so desperately, before he pulled him carefully into his embrace.

“Gods!”, he whined and held him close. “When I heard you were wounded…”

His breath went heavy and warm against the neck of Eivor, who wasn't able to move. Wasn't able to understand what just happened. Sigurd's arm around his shoulders felt so wrong and right at the same time.

Eivor found himself devastated by what had happened. The people he had to kill, friends, allies he had lost, Sigurd being tortured and wounded and blaming him for it. The long silence between them. The confusion of his heart and his feelings for Tarben, Vili and… Rollo.

Now that he finally understood, what had held him back the whole time - not his gender, his age or even his cockiness, but the realization that he actually liked him and feared to be consumed by those feelings - he was about to lose him.

His chest was cramping and he felt a stinging pain in his throat, along with a burn in his eyes, before tears found their way over his face. He fought back to cry, but failed badly, when his head slumped against Sigurds shoulder. 

And Sigurd held him tight. Like he had done after the wolf attacked him and during countless nights after that. On the day Vili had left Norway and Eivor wished to die, it had been Sigurd’s love that had saved him. 

Holding him, allowing his tears, not asking questions and making up excuses for Eivor’s absence. He had been a different person before returning from Constantinople.

Valka’s sigh made Eivor escape the warm embrace. She was putting aside a bowl and cleaning her hands with a piece of cloth.

Eivor wiped away the tears.

“What now?”, he asked hoarsely, as he spotted the wound still open and bleeding.

“Now we wait. I let him drink a mixture of herbs. If I smell them through the cut in a moment, there’s nothing I can do for him.”

Eivor felt a stinging pain in his chest, his hands started shaking. Valka’s words made him fully aware of the situation, of what could be. Seeing Rollo lying there half-cautious, fighting for his life, was unbearable. 

“Let’s take care of this meanwhile”, Sigurd said quietly, but firm, meaning the arrow that was still stuck in Eivors thigh.

He just nodded and sat down on a stool next to the bed, while Valka tended to it. Inspected and cleaned the surroundings first, then removed the arrows head carefully and ordered Sigurd to hold him again. Too slowly, she pulled the arrow from Eivors leg bit by bit, joined by sounds of suffering and loud breathings. Eivor’s whole body was trembling, sweat building up on his forehead. When the arrow was finally removed, the seer and his brother helped him out of his breeches, before Valka coated the bloody spots on his thigh with a mixture of honey and herbs and bound it up with clean stripes of cloth. 

  
  


As she had finished, she moved back to Rollo, towering over him and sniffing at the cut with closed eyes. Her look was still stern, when she retreated, announcing: “Nothing. Lucky boy.”

Struck by relief, Eivor sighed and felt a new wave of tears arising. Sigurd squeezed his shoulder and smiled down on him.

Valka treated the wound the same way, as she did before on Eivor, ordered them all to rest and left. 

  
  


Eivor placed his stool directly next to the bed and, without thinking, took Rollos hand, pulled it up between his hands and to his lips. Breathed against the cold skin.

“Eivor…”, he heard Sigurd say. “I didn’t know...”

“Me neither”, Eivor cut him off quietly, his eyes now closed. 

“Sometimes we find love in the strangest of places”, Sigurd huffed and when Eivor looked at him, he shrugged. 

But then, his expression got sad, apologetic. 

“I’m sorry, brother. Please, forgive me. I was wrong. About everything.”

Eivor just stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

“Good you’re back”, he said and Sigurd smiled, knowing what he meant.

“We’ll talk later”, his brother promised calmly. “Get some rest, Eivor.”

And he nodded once more, before he lowered his face against Rollo’s hand again and placed a kiss on it.

Praying to all entities, to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: No Light by Florence + the Machine
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGH-4jQZRcc
> 
> No light, no light in your bright blue eyes  
> I never knew daylight could be so violent  
> A revelation in the light of day  
> You can choose what stays and what fades away


End file.
